Battle Royale: Riverdale
by miSS-yUnz
Summary: Archie and his riverdale friends find themselves forced to play a game of kill or be killed: Battle Royale. 50 enter, only one survives. Betty, Reggie, Archie, Jughead... or someone else? Who has what it takes to win? Let the games begin.
1. Battle Royale

Disclaimer- Don't own Archie, or Battle Royale. If I did, I'd be rich.

Note: This story is sort of a mix between the movie Battle Royale, with Archie magazine Characters. If you haven't watched B.R its okay because its going to be explained in this story anyways,. You don't have to have watched the movie to understand this story.

Warning- Plenty of my own characters will be in this. But they will not be disgustingly cliché, or sickening. So don't worry. Also, if you dislike violence, steer clear from this story. And if you find my story offensive in anyway, tell me.

Otherwise enjoy the story, and don't forget to leave a review

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**Battle Royale: Riverdale**

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Mrs. Grundy's 5th period speech class was in an uproar as it always was. The 50 students that inhabited it screeched, laughed and chased each other around the large room, and paper balls drenched in spit somehow found its way into Archie's eye.

"Ow!" He cried as he reared his head, just in time to see Reggie and Chuck snicker and turn away. "Jerks!" he shouted as he began to run in pursuit of the pranksters.

Betty turned away from her gossip session with Veronica to observe as Chuck and Reggie smoothly jumped down from the bleacher like seats, and swung around the podium as Archie clumsily ran after them, scrambling across the huge classroom.

Betty shook her head disapprovingly, but could not suppress a chuckle. "When will they grow up?" She asked Veronica who giggled in return.

A loud, urgent shout seared through the Chaos as a classmate named Gary stormed into the room. "Grundy's coming!" He said as he herded Chuck, Archie, and Reggie into their seats. Dilton looked up from the book his nose had been burrowed in as Betty smiled and leaned over to wake the dozing Jughead from his dreams that were most likely of food.

The chaos that had reigned the class roomed lulled as the aging teacher entered the room. The class knew that she had no tolerance for monkey business, and would assign a 15 minute speech on insanely difficult topics if the class was not in their seats by the time she entered. Because of this fact, the class of 50 students assigned someone as the official "Grundy alarm" to warn everyone if he saw Grundy approaching. It was Gary's week, and everyone had to admit, he was pretty darn good at it.

The class waited , hands folded as Grundy walked into the room. The teacher strode to her desk and sat in it looking rather defeated. Instead of taking her usual place at the podium lecturing, she remained seated wordlessly, eyes scanning the gigantic room. She seemed to be taking in every students faces, studying then, and placing them into her memory. The students squirmed in their seats in unease, and genuine concern. They loved Grundy, and in all of their years with her, had never seen Grundy look so dead. She was usually so fiery and stern, ready to teach, and ready to build adults. But today her eyes were lackluster, and heavy bags hung beneath them as if she hadn't gotten even a few minutes of sleep in years.

Betty, being as compassionate as usual was first to speak.

"Mrs. Grundy?… Are you Okay?"

The blonds voice hung in the air for a few minutes, and a tense silence filled the room.

Grundy shuffled some papers on her desk for apparently no reason before she finally answered.

"Of course not Betty. Just didn't sleep too well last night is all…"

It was apparent to most of the class that this was a downright lie. But thankfully everyone had the sense to stay silent.

"Anyway, class, you've been invited to participate in a national debate competition. Debate classes from all over the country come, and you've all been invited."

The room was alive in an instant. All of the students began to whisper amongst themselves in joy to their respective friends. The class was so large that everyone had formed specific clique's and knew nothing about the other classmates other than name and face.

Grundy raised a hand for silence.

"We leave next Thursday. There is a permission slip on the front desk. Grab one as you leave."

The class suppressed their excitement, and nodded.

"Class dismissed." The teacher said, falling back into her chair.

The class gasped in surprise. Was a teacher even allowed to let a class out when it had hardly begun?

However, they weren't the type to complain, essentially not Reggie who was the first to bound out the door.

One by one the students filed out of the classroom, some happy, some puzzled, and all excited about the upcoming competition.

Only Betty and Veronica stayed behind, reaching for the permission slips with deliberate hands.

"Mrs. Grundy?" Veronica dared. "Are you sure your alright?"

Grundy looked up at her two beloved students, and had to bite back tears. These kids…. These darling kids she had known since their childhood….

"Yes girls. I'm fine."

Shooting their teacher one last concerned look, the best friends walked out of the class.

Alone at last, the aging teacher felt a few tears slide down her cheek.

_I'm sorry kids… I tried the best I could…._

-----

The night before Grundy had been in her office, sipping her usual sweetened tea as she prepared for the next days lesson. She even let a small smile grace her lips as she thought of Archie and Reggie's antics early that day.

Archie had been the "Grundy alarm" (the kids had no idea she knew of its existence) and as Archie saw her approach the hall, he tried to warn the class, and instead got locked out by mischievous Reggie. She had caught Archie shouting like a banshee as he sauntered around clumsily, demanding the door be opened.

What fools. But lovable ones nonetheless.

Finished with her lecture arrangements, Grundy finished off her tea and prepared to leave, when a very Disheveled Weatherbee stumbled into her office. He tripped ridiculously, and fell into a fat heap before her feet, panting and cursing softly.

Shortly following the wreck of a principal were three burly men. All wearing identical government patches on their black uniforms.

It was quite a simple patch. The initials B.R in fancy gold stitch.

B.R?

What was….?

The teacher stared down at her feet where Weatherbee had begun to sob.

B.R…

It clicked.

"Never!" she said forcefully without even waiting for the men to introduce themselves. "You cant take them."

The three men raised their eyebrows in surprise. The old woman had a fire in her eyes that they had not seen in a long time.

The tallest man who was apparently their leader was first to break out of their stupor.

"The United States Association of Youth and…" he began

"No." Grundy disrupted. "I said no."

"Your class has been chosen to perform in the annual Battle Royale.."

Grundy looked down at her feet at the very much defeated principal. Then back up at the men.

"I said…"

This time it was the large man who interrupted her. A little roughly this time.

"_Do not_ try to resist, or it is the government of the United States you are resisting."

A choked sob rose from the ground as the principal resumed his crying.

"Your class of fifty students have been chosen to participate in the annual Battle Royale… in order to retain order in induce the fear of government into the adolescence, the government decrees…"

_He's so robotic._ Grundy thought. _He's just reading this line for line from his memory. Just how many people has he sentence to death with this speech?_

"NO!" Grundy shouted. The teacher turned to grab her china cup of tea, prepared to smash the burly man with it. She was unsure of what would happen after she did, seeing as his head was probably too thick to feel it at all.

The teacher raised the cup in her hand and turned… just in time to see a small pistol pointed at her head, a finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger.

The cup fell from her stiff fingers and shattered on the ground.

"You will not resist."

And at gunpoint, Grundy found that he was very right.

Her resolve fell from all around her, and she felt her delusional beliefs that she would die for her students shattered like the tiny china cup.

"Very good…."The man said smugly, tucking the gun away into his jacket. "Now sign here, here, and…"

Grundy felt herself drowned in a sea of sound and swirling confusions.

Three days.

Three days and 49 of her 50 students would be dead.

---

The sky was cloudless and beautiful as the debate class filed onto the buses that would take them to the debating competition.

The bus was gigantic, enough for all fifty students to sit comfortably, but they had little time to marvel it between the excited chatter.

"Can you believe it? If we win this, we might be on the news!" Archie exclaimed to his group of friends.

"This could be the break I'm waiting for!" Reggie said. "And then poof, all the girls will fall for my smile. I'll be famous!"

An annoyed elbow to the ribs via Betty Cooper sent him into a fit of laughter. He loved annoying her almost as much as he did Archie.

"Hey guys." Said chuck as he and his girlfriend Nancy came up to the group. "The buses are loading the students now. Lets go."

The group let out a loud cheer as they stampeded towards the bus. Jughead used his spindly figure to worm through the mob that was in front of the bus' door, and somehow made it to the front of the line. He teetered precariously, nearly toppling backwards into the girls behind him, but his classmate named Josh was able to grab hold of his arm and pull him into the bus.

"I'll save you guys seats!" Jughead called, clutching his crown hat as it threatened to fall from his head.

"Us too!" Midge called from behind the line, hanging onto Moose's arm to stand on her tip toes.

In a short enough time, everyone had gotten onto the bus, somehow Archie and Jugheads very large group of friends were able to sit together and were currently all talking at once, and over each other. Then all would laugh at the absurdity of the moment, and start again. Only Dilton was silent as he was squished comfortably between Reggie's back and a bug splattered window, reading a thick philosophical book.

The bus roared fiercely as it began on its journey.

"And…. We're Off!" Shouted petite little Candace from the back of the bus.

The hours dragged on, and the excited chatter that had inhabited the bus began to calm into level conversation.

The bus driver sighed in relief. He hated teenagers. So loud, and rowdy. No wonder Battle Royale was created.

And speaking of Battle Royale…

The driver reached into his pocket and produced a small oval canister. Careful not to let anyone notice, he snapped a small lid off of the metal can, and let it fall to the ground, and roll down the aisle of the bus. The produced a small hiss as a light mist of vapor seeped from it, and into the bus.

Only one person seemed to notice it. The boy Gary looked up from his conversation with his friends, and he pointed to the small canister that was rolling down the bus floor. He bent and grabbed it.

"Hey, what's this?" he asked to no one in particular. He suddenly felt a very hot rush of air come from the ball, and he hissed in pain and dropped it. The canister continued its roll down the aisle, fuming the bus successfully.

One by one, the students felt a certain sleepiness come about, and try as they might, their eyes would not stay open.

Veronica gave a dainty yawn and snuggled into Archie's shoulder. Soon the red head was falling into slumber as well.

Betty gazed away, feeling stung as she watched her best friend and object of desire cuddle up to sleep.

But speaking of sleep…. Why was she suddenly so…?

Grudgingly she let her head fall onto Reggie's shoulder. She never would want to, but he was next to her. And she was so….. Tired.

"What the fuck?" Gary continued to shout albeit a bit more sleepily. "What the hell was that thing…. It…." he fell asleep just like everyone else.

Only Reggie remained slightly conscious. He looked down to Betty's sleeping face, and smiled. She must have been pretty damn tired to sleep on him.

He looked up and around him. Everyone was out cold. Odd, considering everyone seemed to fall asleep around the same time.

Something was not right… it tugged at Reggie's mind. He was usually so sharp… but everything… his mind felt so heavy…

Reggie turned to the front of the bus, and locked eyes with the bus driver.

He was wearing a gas mask.

Despite its drugged condition, Reggie's mind put two and two together, and determined that something was wrong.

That they were in a dangerous situation.

With that he fell into unconsciousness.

And the tiny canister in the back of the bus continued to hiss its sleep inducing vapor into the air.

The students slept soundly. Unaware that when they woke, they would not be at the competition that didn't exist.

And they would definitely, definitely, be far, far from home

---

Contestants (last names withheld.)

**Boys**

Boy # 1- Archie

Boy # 2- John

Boy # 3-Jughead

Boy #4-Ryan

Boy #5-Timothy

Boy #6- Brian

Boy #7- Chuck

Boy #8- Dylan

Boy #9- Andrew

Boy #10- Reggie

Boy #11-Rex

Boy #12- Alex

Boy #13- Moose

Boy #14- Gary

Boy #15-Dilton

Boy #16-Kyle

Boy #17- Damien

Boy #18- Dominic

Boy #19- Chris

Boy #20- Frank

Boy #21-Maurice

Boy #22- Lance

Boy #23-Derek

Boy #24- Mario

Boy #25- David

**Girls**

Girl #1- Midge

Girl #2- Lisa

Girl #3- Jessica

Girl #4-Candace

Girl #5- Lena

Girl #6-Betty

Girl #7- Laura

Girl #8-Becky

Girl #9-Tamia

Girl #10- Mitra

Girl #11- Nancy

Girl #12- Kim

Girl #13- Ethel

Girl #14- June

Girl #15- Sarah

Girl #16- Cheryl

Girl #17- Susie

Girl #18- Joy

Girl #19- Kendall

Girl #20- Connie

Girl #21- Kelly

Girl #22- Melissa

Girl #23-Rihanna

Girl #24- Monica

Girl #25- Randy

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Will update second chapter soon.

Please leave a review D


	2. Game start

Thanks to the people who reviewed !! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter dont forget to review

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Chapter 1: Game start

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His head felt like it was being split in two. John (Boy #2) was never one to get migraines but at that particular moment, his skull felt as if it were being drilled by jackhammers.

_Are we here? Competition..?_

The boy laboriously opened his lead heavy eyes. It seemed to take a while for his vision to focus, but when he did his head shot open in surprise.

He wasn't at some fancy competition hall. Hell, he wasn't even in that rickety excuse for a bus!

Taking a look around him, John noticed that all forty-nine of his classmates were out cold all around him. Some were asleep in precariously oblique desks that seemed close to breaking point, and most others were strewn across the floor, laid over each other, limbs jutting out awkwardly as if they were carelessly thrown in that position.

_What the fuck is going on?_

John thought as he casually scratched an itch on his neck.

His hand ran into metal.

_What the?_

A thick metal collar seemed to be attached to his neck. He couldn't recall ever….

The anxious boy tugged at the aggravating collar, tugged scratched. John didn't have a good feeling about the collar. Now that he took the time to look, all of his classmates had collars identical to his… He didn't know why he had it on…. But he wanted it OFF!

He was hardly able to let out a gasp of surprise before the collar gave two quick beeps under his prying fingers before detonating like a miniature bomb on his neck.

The majority of the boys face was torn right off his head, splattering his side of the room in blood and gray matter. John, still alive, knew he should have screamed. He didn't quite know what had happened. A moment of intense pain… then a numb confusion. What was going on? He couldn't see… couldn't breath. The boy tried to scream, to find with a dull shock that he no longer had a mouth to screech from. The hands that had once been prying at the collar fell limply to John's lap.

His dead body slumped back into its desk.

"What was that?" Asked Archie who had been jerked awake from the explosion.

"Hey, where are we?"

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Many eyes were beginning to turn to the messily decapitated body. Dilton let out a small scream before stumbling away from the steaming corpse.

"What..? What's happening?"

"JOHN! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"

Everyone in the room was awake now. Screaming, darting every which way, eyes wide as they observed the dead body, and the mass of splattered brain that laid some five feet away.

Jughead's hand grazed his collar, and his eyes grew wide.

"DON'T TOUCH YOUR COLLARS! DON'T TOUCH THEM!"

Moose's eyes darted around. In the far corner of the room, he spied his girlfriend Midge who was sprawled on the floor covering her ears. With a roar he pushed past the chaos that built up the room and made his way towards his love. Finally reaching her, he bent down and picked her up in a strong embrace. She returned it thankfully, confused tears wetting his shirt.

In all the Chaos no one noticed when a burly man in his late 40's entered the room.

No one even noticed that he had drawn a very large semi automatic gun in his hand. It was only when he let bullets fly over the students heads when he got their attention.

The students screamed and hit the floor, arms over their heads.

"Silence!" He shouted forcefully.

The students obliged, all eyes fixated on the gun.

"Settle into your seats students."

Left with little choice at guns point, the students did as they were told, struggling into seated position. A tense silence swirled around the room, the only sounds to be heard were muffled sobs and hard breathing.

The man smiled.

"Well, greeting class! My name is Mr. Smith. Your lucky class has been chosen to participate in the annual Battle Royale program

The class looked around in confusion. Everyone had heard of Battle Royale. But that was as far as it went. The Battle Royale program was a well kept secret of the Government.

"Now I'm sure your all wondering what exactly is Battle Royale?" Mr. Smith continued. "Well lucky kids, you are about to find out."

Archie looked down at Veronica who was shivering besides him. Not out of cold, but out of pure unbridled fear. He put his arm around her frail shoulder and whispered softly to her in attempted comfort.

"Battle Royale is an annual program that the brilliant government came up with to keep you rowdy teens in line. In the last ten years, you teens have been getting out of control. Drug circulation, fights, armed robberies… this program is to induce some fear and discipline in you kids. Be proud students, for you are ridding this glorious country of those that will grow to have nothing to offer it."

"That doesn't make any sense" Jughead heard Betty whisper tearfully under her breath. He awkwardly patted her shoulder in what he hoped would be affection. Indeed it didn't make any sense, but the world seemed to be going to the dogs. He knew America was not the only country to practice Battle Royale. Japan, France, Russia, Korea, Germany, Canada, England… all over the world Battle Royale was being practiced.

Now he knew what the program was about.

"Enough of that. Now on to the rules of the game."

The kids held their breath.

"There is only one true point to this program. Kill of be killed. That's right kids. You all have three days and three days only to fight, fight, fight! At the end of the 72 hour duration, there is to be only one person alive on the island. Only one person will survive."

The room let out on huge gasp. For many waterworks began to turn on.

"Now, all of you will play. ALL of you must play. Don't think that refusing to play, or forming groups will get anything accomplished. If at the end of three days, there is more than one person standing, all of the collars you have on your neck will detonate. Everyone will die. If for 12 hours there are no kills, all the collars will detonate. Everyone dies. So don't relent with the killing! On the subject of collars, we are on an abandoned island. If you try to swim past the line of buoys, the collar will detonate. If you tamper with it… well…" Mr. Smith nodded his head at the corpse of John. "You know what will happen. There is no escaping the program kids. So all of you will kill, all of you will fight, if you wish to live."

A stunned silence filled the room. How could this be happening? They were going to go to a debating contest. Right? They were going to have fun, they were going to be on the news and win. Right?

"Now." Said Mr. Smith walking to the back of the room where a large map was hanging.

"The island is divided into blocks called zones. As you can see here, the Island has everything from an urban area, to wooded area, beaches, and open fields. During the game, danger zones will be determined and put into effect. Danger zones are area's that will set off your neck collars. So for example, if block 32 happens to be a danger zone, and you blindly waltz into it, you will find that your face is no longer attached to your head. New danger zones will be announced on the loud speakers every six hours. Steer clear."

A series of large carts were wheeled into the room by burly armed men. Sitting on the carts sat several duffel bags. Fifty to be exact.

"Your personal items have all been confiscated , but in these duffel bags you will find enough food and water to last you all three days, A map of the Island, a compass, and a randomly assigned weapon. Some of you may be lucky, and well… some of you may not be. " Mr. smith smiled. "Your names will be called one by one, you will come and grab a duffel bag, and head out onto the island. Block 38 is currently a danger zone. Please try to remember that. Also, as soon as all the students leave a half a mile away from the school, it will become a danger zone. Don't even try any blow up the school acts. Well, happy hunting. If you are lucky, you will hear my voice again in six hours."

The students glanced around the room, suddenly terrified and doubtful of everyone in the room. Many made eye contact with lovers of friends, as if trying to assure one another.

They couldn't believe this was happening.

Must have been some sort of joke,… must have been…

The aging man exited the room and a large man who was armed to the teeth began to read names off a roll of paper.

"First up… Archie (boy #1)"

The red head stumbled, his heart beating in his throat. It was happening. It was really happening. What was he to do? He was terrified. As he walked to the front of the room, he glanced behind his shoulder, trying to match glances with someone he knew… anyone.

His eyes connected with Jughead. His lanky friend gave him a weak, terrified smile as if trying to reassure.

Drawing enough comfort from the small smile from his best friend, Archie strode to the front of the room and grabbed a random duffel bag. Thankful that he was the first one to leave the room, Archie sprinted out of the door and onto the island, wanting to get as far from the wretched class room, John's corpse, and the possible killers as he could.

After about a minute of waiting to allow Archie to spread as far as he wanted, the man lifted the list again and read: "Midge (girl #1)"

The girl let out a small cry, and clung harder to her boyfriend. He looked ready to burst and beat the pulp out of the man with the list. Reggie held his breath fearfully. He hoped Moose, however dense he may be, would be able to determine that his anger would only put both Midge and himself in danger.

To everyone's relief, Moose did not lose himself to anger. Instead, he gave Midge one last heartfelt hug, and gently pushed her away. "I'll catch up to yah outside, 'kay, baby? Don't cry and be careful, kay?"

The brunette strode to the front of the room, grabbed a duffel bag, and like Archie, sprinted out of the room, and into the forest. A small part of herself feeling lucky that only Archie had been before her.

Moose placed a large hand over his chest to calm himself. He needed to recollect. He knew he wasn't so smart, but one thing was clear in his mind. He had to protect Midge. Had to. He loved her so much, and wouldn't let anything happen to her. But to protect, he had to be calm…. Collected.

One by one, the names were called, and the students drained out of the classroom, one by one into the island.

Many would not live to see the night.

----

Kim (girl #12) ran through the forest as fast as he legs would carry her. Spindly, protruding branches slapped and cut her as she flew by, but she paid little attention to them. She had to get away. The program…. If she didn't get away from _him_, she would die. Kim knew that he was out to kill her, ever since that incident…

And this was the perfect chance. To kill, without punishment.

Yes. HE was most definitely going to try to kill her.

The girls feet tangled and she fell heavily to the ground. Quickly, she looked around her. Only dense, dense forest. Deciding it was best she catch her breath, and determine where she was, Kim Leaned against a tree, heart beating a million miles a minute as she opened her duffel bag. She pulled out her map, and with the marker provided in the bag, checked block 38 as a danger zone. She most definitely didn't want to end up like John. She most definitely wanted to keep her head.

Taking another glance at her map, Kim determined she was currently in block 12. She had just passed a river which placed her in either block 11 or 12.

Satisfied, she tucked away the map and pulled out a bottle of water, taking a small, rational sip.

_My weapon!_

The girl suddenly felt a coil knot in her stomach. She suddenly didn't know what to think. She wanted a good weapon, definitely. She wanted to live more than anything. But could she kill? Could she actually kill someone?

The girl reached into her bag, rummaged, and finally felt something. The coil in her stomach constricted even further as she pulled the weapon out. She nearly screamed in frustration as she observed her so called weapon. An empty beer bottle.

With annoyance, she stuffed it back into her bag. She didn't know what good it would do, but decided against discarding it.

Bringing out her compass, the girl stood. Suddenly feeling terror seize her heart again. She had to live. She had to live at all costs, and she knew he was after her.

Kim didn't want to kill. She didn't want to kill anyone. But more than that, she wanted to live.

And in order to live… She had to get rid of _him_. She just had to get rid of him, and everything would fall into place.

But in order to get rid of _him_ she needed a better weapon.

The answer was simple, she had to take down someone weaker than her, and steal their weapon.

The girl nodded to herself in determination. She would do that.

She would get rid of _him_, and everyone else.

Kim would live. She promised herself that.

-----

Betty Cooper (Girl #6) sat by the water's edge, watching the sunlight play off the ripples and waves.

The calming tide as it rushed and receded seemed too out of place. On this island people would be dying, blood would be spilt, and yet there was an ocean, a beach were clam shells were fully intact, just asking to be picked up. Crabs still skittered along, and the water was blue and beautiful. It was almost mind boggling… people were going to die. People she knew were going to die, perhaps on this very beach where she was receiving solace from.

But this was not a friendly beach; Betty knew that much. Battle Royale had started many years back, and though the beach looked peaceful enough at the moment, she knew that was not the case. In fact, on of the many rocks that she was sitting on was stained an odd maroon color, but Betty didn't want to ponder on what it was.

Surprisingly, Betty was not so frightened. Indeed, she had been terrified when she first stepped out of the old rickety school, yet after she had made it through the forest and to the beach, she had calmed down reasonably. Now that the initial terror of the beginning game had passed, only a numb sense of morbid awe and sadness swirled in her mind. Such a horrid program…

Kill or die, those were the only rules.

Rules that she would never follow.

The blond looked down at her random weapon: A sheet of paper. Its uselessness both disappointed, and relieved her. On one hand, Betty wished she could have had a weapon she could sufficiently protect herself with. But on the other side of the spectrum, she was relieved she did not have a heavy duty weapon. She would never be able to hurt someone, let alone kill. The fact that she did not have a weapon only made that final, and for that she was glad.

Lifting the paper up, she let the wind catch it and fly it away. The little paper swirled with the wind, higher, higher before it disappeared into the horizon. Betty wished she could do the. Float away, away with nothing to stop her.. Without a care.. Without worries.

But the cold metal on her neck made sure she would never be able to do that again. And the deadly line of Buoys a little ways into the water also served as a ominous reminder.

She was going to die. That much was obvious. Being a pacifist, she knew she would be one of the easy kills for kids who were playing on the island. And there were definitely people who were playing.

Betty swallowed hard as a lump began to form in her throat. She hadn't believed anyone in her class would play. It seemed too unbelievable, she didn't believe anyone in the class would have it in them to kill. She had been proved wrong soon enough.

The blond thought back to the first moments of the game, when she first stepped out of the school, duffel bag clutched tightly to her chest. She had trekked for no more than twenty minutes before she had spotted a body that was eagle spread in the grass. Betty could still remember the cold that coursed through her body. Dead. A dead body.

Betty didn't want to approach the body, but she had. In case she was still alive… Betty was a practiced nurse… just in case..

But no. The girl was most definitely dead. A small hole in the temple assured that.

The blond recognized the girl to be Connie. She was known as one of the best debaters in the class. Betty hated the fact that such a talented individual had had their lives so quickly stolen from under them.

A sudden rustling of branches to the side alarmed Betty, Horror and shock taking over her mind, the girl sprinted into the dense woods, leaving the dead girl, and rustling branches behind.

The slip of paper was out of Betty's sight now. For some reason she felt even more alone than she had felt before. Without the paper that was her so called "weapon" , Betty felt utterly vulnerable.

She knew what it was she needed. She needed to find her friends… all of them. She wanted to be able to protect them. Get out of the wretched situation together.

Betty especially worried of Veronica and Reggie. Both had too many enemies to count, and would surely be targets.

The blond stood up. She couldn't be sitting around pitying herself. She needed to find her friends.

Betty looked down at her map. A small stain of mud was smudged over the school and block 38 to signify the danger zones. The girl noted that she was in either block 61, or 62. She guessed that knowing Veronica, she would most likely be heading to the urban area to hide.

The blue ocean behind Betty began to churn steadily. The wind was picking up at a frightening pace. The girl hated the thought of entering the forest when the wind was too strong. The branches were already beginning to whip about fiercely.

If she wanted to elude the strong winds, she had to get going now.

The blond quickly ran into the forest, trying to ignore the cuts the gnarled branches were making on her fair face. Betty only had one thought on her mind: Find friends. An early premonition told Betty that she would not survive the three days. All she wanted was to see her loving friends one more time. Just once more….

The gentle girl however, was oblivious to the fact that some of her friends would not be feeling the same way.

That some might, just might… be playing.

Current Danger zones: 38, 12

Contestants remaining: 48

Recent death: (boy #2) John, (girl #20) Connie


	3. intentions

A/N: Sorry for the late update everyone; I will try to be more punctual. Or at least, as punctual as I can be with my current school schedule. Thanks for commenting

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Chapter 2

Timothy (Boy #5) stole into the woods, holding his assigned weapon tightly in a hand slicked with sweat. He was scared, Terrified, Near hysterical, and still those words did nothing to explain the way he felt. The small boys mind reeled with absolute disbelief , and his sweat works turned on. Timothy had a habit of breaking into a cold sweat when disturbed. He was practically drenched now, and the cold bitter winds that whipped through the forest chilled him to the bone.

The boy gingerly wrapped his sweat soaked Jacket closer to his body and walked faster. He hoped to reach the suburban area where there were houses, hopefully still containing blankets. He needed a place to recollect himself. He needed to clear his usually brilliant mind. He needed to arrange his thoughts in order to live. Timothy knew he wanted nothing more than to survive. He had even come to the conclusion that he was willing to kill, and the thought did not come as much of a shock.

In actuality, there were a few kids in the class he wished he could kill far before the program.

For far too long, Timothy had been teased and pranked relentlessly. Because of his small form, because of his tendency to sweat, because of his brain, because of his ridiculous thick round glasses…

Timothy could not understand it. Dilton was also much like him, minus the sweat works. In all rights, Dilton should have shared his misery and constant humiliation. Yet Dilton enjoyed the luxury of many friends. In fact, he was friends with the class's most popular group. Archie, Betty, and Veronica's crew.

If it were not for Dilton, Timothy would have at least nabbed the title as the class's biggest brain, and that recognition would have been enough. But Dilton easily stole that title. He was ten times, no.. a thousand times more brilliant than Timothy would ever be. This left him with nothing but the title of geek. Ugly, dumb, and second rate brain. Timothy decided that was reason enough to want to eliminate Dilton.

However…

Timothy looked down at his weapon. It was unlikely he could kill anyone with it. He was hoping for a Large gun, a pistol, explosives, maybe even a knife. But as his rotten luck would have it…

He received a teddy bear.

A rather cute one at that.

The small brown animal was soft and pleasing to pet, yet it had an unnerving smell of cleaning detergent and something faintly metallic. Perhaps it was metal. Or perhaps it was blood.

Timothy did not want to chance a guess. As worthless as the stuffed animal was, Timothy felt discouraged from throwing it away. The animal radiated a sort of comfort, and sort of security. It was like his new and only friend, the only person on the damn island that was not out to kill him, and would not stab him in the back… not bully him.

However that may be, Timothy knew he needed a better weapon.

His mind churned and reeled. He knew he needed time to recollect, and the urban area was the best place to do it. However many people would also be flocking to the urban and suburban area. To be in a house with no weapon was suicide.

If he were in a house weaponless, and someone armed well, and playing were to walk in… he would be trapped. He would be….

No.

He needed to think.

But he needed a weapon so much more desperately.

The tiny boy hugged his teddy bear closer to his chest. He knew what he had to do. He needed to find someone small. He needed to take down someone small and nab their weapon.

And to do that, he needed a hiding place.

With solid resolve, Timothy strayed off the beaten path of the woods, and into the thick foliage. He was so small, there was no way anyone would find him without feeling him out.

Timothy would wait for people to pass, and when he saw a likely victim, he would pounce.

He would kill.

His new furry friend was watching.

And he would not disappoint.

Reggie (boy #10) sat quietly on the edge of the forest. His keen eyes studied the buildings to the distance carefully as he debated whether it would be safer to enter the deserted buildings or stay in the forest.

As much as his sharp mind calculated, both possibilities were atrocious.

On one hand the urban area and suburban area was most likely where many of the contestants flocked to. To hide, for shelter, whatever. The urban area was definitely the most sought out. If he were to enter one of the houses that someone was already residing in, he might be killed. If he was in a house and someone playing walked in, he would likewise be killed.

However on the other hand, the forest was perfect for stealthy players to pounce on an unexpecting contestant. And the howling winds and whipping branches did nothing to help his nerve. Just in the last ten minutes the forceful winds had compelled Reggie out of the onerous darkness of the forest and into its edge.

Battle Royale was based on insanity and luck.

That's how Reggie saw it.

Luck to only run into weak players and not get killed, and pure insanity to be able to kill class mates and friends in the first place.

Reggie knew he could never play. Never.

Sure, he didn't want to die. But he didn't want to live a murderer, and that pretty much sealed his fate.

Reggie sighed and solemnly glanced down at his hands. He had received a pair of brass knuckles. Finely polished and gleaming, the iron fists would be able to crush bone like styraphome.

But they were useless when opposed with guns or knives.

He wouldn't last long. He would die.

The realization crashed down on him for about the millionth time in the last thirty minutes.

Oh god, I'm going to die

Oddly Reggie hadn't been able to cry for the whole program. No matter how his innards churned at the thought of death and blood, his tear ducts had jammed. He could not cry. His mind must not have wanted Reggie to spend his last moments in a sobbing wreck.

For that, Reggie was thankful.

Even in a fatal situation, Reggie's dignity held. He did not want to be seen reduced to tears. Especially in front of….

Her

Yes. There was someone Reggie wanted to find. However he didn't know how he was going to help her if he wasn't even all that stable himself. He needed a place to rest, to think. Then he would go find her.

Wrapping his wilting heart in determination, Reggie stood and ran for the urban area, and into a dark alley.

The blood would not come off of his clothes

He scrubbed and scrubbed but it still clung to his blazer in dark hues of pink.

It would not come off.

A hyperventilating Kyle (Boy #16) kneeled by the gurgling river using a rough bunch of leaves to scrub at the stains.

He hadn't meant to kill. He really hadn't. But the terror of the program had gotten to his head. Alone in the fretful forest with his designated hand gun clasped in his fingers, panic clouding his thoughts….

It wasn't his fault.

Connie (Girl #20) had run up to him. She was scared and wanted company.

But Kyle had mistaken that for an attack. He'd shot her.

Kyle's mind wandered back to the fateful moment. The wind had been absolutely howling, filling every crevice of the forest and his mind with panic. Connie had just been unlucky to stumble upon him at that moment. Had Kyle been calmer he wouldn't have…killed her. Never would have.

Kyle was not the murderer. Panic was.

The girl had begged, spoke. However the words did little to even get Kyle's attention. Connie had been a skilled debater. One of the best in the state, however having a gun pointed at her temple by a near hysterical boy seemed to have jammed her smooth talking mind.

A shot in the head was not at all how it was portrayed in movies. Kyle had half expected skull to shatter, blood and gray matter to spray. That, however was not the case. A distant pop and a sudden jolt from the tiny gun signified that sometime between the haze inducing terror, Kyle had pressed the trigger. He watched in morbid awe as Connie's head snapped back. She seemed close to toppling however she somehow managed to once again make her neck erect.

There was blood. Not a gush as the movies suggested, but more like a steady stream. A small, sticky waterfall curving around the contours of her well formed nose and lips. Somehow.. This was much more terrifying.

Thin rivulets of tears had begun to stream from the debaters gray eyes. They were usually so sharp, it struck Kyle to see them so.. Afraid.

"Stop" She whispered fearfully, blood still running down her face. "No.." The girl turned as if to run, her legs buckled. With a heavy thud the girl fell into the dirt floor, eyes wide and staring at her accidental killer.

She was still alive.

But she would be dead soon. Kyle did not want to see her die.

With the small ounce of reasoning left in his mind, Kyle bent and grabbed Connie's duffel bag, leaving her staring eyes and tears behind.

With a quick shake of his head, Kyle attempted to clear his mind.

It wasn't my fault. Stop it. Its not my fault.

The boy gave up on scrubbing at his hands. If Connie wanted to haunt him, he supposed it was only fair.

Kyle dared a look at the dead girls duffel bag. He half expected her ghost to be sitting upon it with stale eyes.

But there it was, innocent and clean as if its owner hadn't just been shot.

Kyle had already gone through the bag. He had received extra food, maps, compasses, water, and most of all… another weapon.

A metal pipe. Not the best, but definitely handy if his gun ran out of ammo.

Wait! No! run out of ammo? I'm not using that damn gun again… EVER. I'm not a murderer!

Then why don't you just throw your weapons into the river?

The sudden thought shocked Kyle. He had no idea where it came from, or why, but it was a damn good question.

He didn't want to kill but….

He probably had the upper hand to most of the players out on the field. Two weapons was definitely a bonus.

He didn't want to kill but…

Knowing he had two means of protection comforted him, and he was more thankful than he ever was in his life.

He didn't want to kill but…

… he didn't want to die either.

Current danger zones: 38, 12

Contestants remaining: 48

Recent deaths: none

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	4. poison

Archie (Boy #1) had to will his heart to keep beating. In the first hour of the game, his heart seemed to have beaten itself into submission. If he did not concentrate, his poor little heart would give out and stop. Just stop to pump that essential blood around his body. Right when he needed it most, to run, to think.

And so as he continued to rush through the forest, he constantly willed his own blood to circulate. He might as well be alert, seeing as his weapon was virtually useless. He'd received nun chucks that he didn't even know how to use.

Sure, Archie had tried to practice with them on a tree, but he ended up smacking himself with it more than the tree. He was just too clumsy to handle such a weapon. On top of this, Archie was no fighter. Hell, he was hardly even athletic. Then he had noticed that his little practice spar with the tree made rather sharp slaps that could attract unwanted attention.

Needlessly afraid that his cover was blown, Archie took flight into the heavy foliage of the forest. He hoped the tangles would conceal him.

In the position he was in, Archie began to yearn more and more for his friends. The more he thought about it, the more he needed them; immediately. He wanted to hold Veronica (Girl #26) once more. He wanted to slap Reggie (boy #10) on the back and tell him how he actually liked him as a friend despite his shows of bitterness. He wanted to tell Jughead how much he loved being best friends with him…. And he wanted to see Betty (Girl #6) and apologize for all of the times he had broken her heart.

Even though Archie knew that Betty loved him, he always took advantage of her devotion. He never realized this before but now he saw it, clear as glass. And he was sorry. But as much as he loved Betty as a friend, Archie couldn't deny that his heart went to Veronica.

Archie sighed as he thought of his brunette beauty. He loved her so much. Since day one when he met her, he knew that they would be special. He wanted nothing more than to see her again. The thought of her alone, afraid, in danger. It was almost too much to bear. Archie had firmly resolved that he would find her and protect her. Perhaps, even fight to let her win the contest. He wanted Veronica to win Battle Royale and live. HE was more than willing to kill himself in order for her to come out victorious. However, was he willing to sacrifice the lives of his loyal friends for the life of his love?

Of that he wasn't very sure.

In any case, he would find her before getting caught up in such terror inducing thoughts. The more positive he was, the more possible it would be for him to keep Veronica safe.

His thoughts had trailed again.

Archie reeled as he felt the sudden deprivation of blood and air. He had stopped breathing again, his heart stopped doing its job. He reeled and fell to the floor, white blotches spiraling in his vision. He willed his blood to circulate again, and sucked in large gulps of precious air.

If he had been more alert at this crucial moment, he would have heard the footsteps or the cracking of branches underneath her shoes.

But it was not until he had gasped his fill, and the white dots receded when he looked up and saw her.

A girl he only knew by face.

A terrified, crying girl whom now pointed her designated weapon..

Directly between his eyes.

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Lisa (girl #2) stared down at the small flashing screen in her hand. For her weapon, she had received a collar tracking device. On the small screen in her hand, she saw all of the danger zones, and red flashing dots signified fellow students.

She smiled airily and hitched up her duffel bag. Lisa had always been a lucky person. She had been blessed with stunning good looks, and money to boot. Given, she wasn't as rich as Ronnie was but that never seemed to stop boys from latching onto her like a wrinkle in a blouse.

Back at Riverdale, she had built up a bad reputation for this. Lisa knew she could damn well get any boy she wanted. Just a wink of the eye would do it. But where was the excitement in wooing a single boy. No, Lisa always indulged in snagging the coupled boys. She loved the thrill of the chase, and the satisfaction of victory. All of the girls in the school hated her for this. Whore, slut… these words were said to the point of being hackneyed to Lisa. But she never cared. The girls bitterness only signified that she, Lisa, had come out triumphant.

So even now, Lisa relished her situation. She truly wanted to come out on top of this. Battle Royale was just another game, another chase. And she had truly been blessed with the most lethal weapon on the field.

Her collar tracker made her a more than deadly predator. On top of that, she would be able to avoid others when she did not wish to be found.

Now.. If only she could snatch a weapon to injure with. A gun of some sort was what she hoped to find, but a blade would also be good enough.

Lisa would win this, she just knew it.

Lisa always won.

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She had found someone to follow.

Kim ( girl #12) had been following the boy for at least twenty minutes. The small boy never once seemed to notice. He was too busy gasping at the swish of leaves and squirrels to even notice her. He was David (boy #25). He had been in her economics and debate class. Kim did not know him well. No one did actually. He was known to be quite reclusive. As far as she knew, he never talked to anyone. All Kim knew was that he was an easy target. David seemed to have no clear idea of what he was doing. He would walk a few steps, then switch directions. His breathing would calm, then hitch. He growled at shadows and then sobbed a bit. He was obviously disoriented. Perhaps even delusional.

Beyond that, he was just small in general. Even more so than Dilton. Kim knew she could take him, and steal his sickle.

The boy finally stopped stumbling and settled to leaning on a tree. It was a tall bay tree. Without so much as glancing around for trouble, he deftly opened his bag of food and began to cram it into his mouth. All of the dinky little sandwiches which were meant to be three days portion disappeared in seconds. It would put Jughead to shame.

Yes, Kim decided. David had lost his frail little mind. He sure looked delusional as he cried and stuffed his face. He looked fit to shit his pants any moment.

As a last favor to the boy, Kim stood back and allowed him to finish eating. After all, it was his final meal. The sandwich wrappers littered the floor around him, and he brought out his water bottles. He downed them all, most of the water wastefully dribbling down his chin.

David had finally guzzled his fill. There was no use in prolonging his misery.

Kim burst out from behind the thicket she was hiding behind. David had just enough time to shout before Kim was upon him, the beer bottle swinging like a club. He ducked in the nick of time and the bottle collided with his shoulder. The bottle glanced off unscratched, but his arm seared white hot.

"GO AWAY!" Tiny David wailed as he attempted to fight back. One of his hands whipped out and grabbed Kim bottle wielding wrist. The two struggled in a dead lock, Kim could not maneuver the bottle to collide on his head. David's grip was surprisingly strong. She had not expected him to fight back. Kim's foot lashed out from nowhere and landed square between David's legs. He crumpled like paper in a fire, one arm over his throbbing area, the other still gripping Kim's wrist. Like a juggler, she deftly switched hands and struck downward on his arm.

A definite crack bounced off of the trees, and David gave a surprised wail. His hand slumped uselessly, and he fell to a quivering kneel before her.

Kim looked down at her first victim without pity. He looked so pathetic, shaking like a Chihuahua, mouth gaping open.

"g-go away.." David finally breathed out, and he gripped his broken wrist.

Go away. The words carried Kim away. Away from the program, away from all of the violence she had committed. She remembered her home. A small one room apartment she and her father shared. She would come home every night and find the man collapsed on the couch. Like always, he would be flipping channels. He never even looked up when she came in. As always, he would be surrounded by beer cans, bottles, Newport light buds. And as always, when Kim tried to reason with him: "_Go away. Leave me alone"_

Always fucking "go away" because he could not dare face the fact that he had a problem. The coward. He didn't care for a thing in the world but his drinks. As far as Kim knew, he did not remember her age.

Kim was abruptly ripped away from her memories, and she looked down at David. But he was not David anymore. He was her father. His face had transformed into the ugly man. He was staring up at her, grimacing.

Go away.

Leave me alone.

I don't need you.

Her father's nose collapsed and spouted blood as her bottle collided. Without halting to relish the peals of screams, she raised her bottle again. This time, it hit his right eye, and his head was blown to the side. The final blow to the back of his cranium shattered the bottle, and David slumped forward. David again, not her father. Just David the bloody pulp.

Kim realized that she was still gripping the gored mouth of the bottle. Quickly she dropped it, and picked up his sickle.

Without looking back for fear she would barf, Kim ran away into the forest.

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Jughead (boy #3) was relieved that he had finally escaped the forest. He was now aimlessly wandering the residential area, offhandedly searching for a good house to stay in. Most of the houses in the residential area seemed fairly dated. They were all mismatching little numbers, some painted bright yellow, while others were more modest shades of beige. Very unlike the uniform neighborhoods he was used to. When exactly had the island been evacuated? Jughead guessed it must have been around the late 1960; judging from the condition of the neighborhood.

So the game had been going on for at least 30 years, then. And without the public being informed too. Jughead knew that if he, by some miracle survived the program, he would never again be able to trust the government.

Society was a lot more screwed up than he initially believed.

Jughead stopped his pacing outside a tiny white house. It was a bit hidden and out of the ways of the main buildings. And around it there were many alleys in which he could escape incase he needed to make a quick getaway. He stepped cautiously towards the house, and peeked his head in through the door. There were two exits to the house. Excellent.

Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, the lanky teen cautiously closed the door behind him. A definite click told him the door had locked. Jughead let out a small sigh. He felt that, at least for a little while, that he was safe. Safe for the first time Battle Royale started. Although, he knew he should not lapse too fully into this false sense of peace. His classmates, his friends even, might be dying at that very moment.

He just required a some time to come to terms with the fact that he would probably not survive. His brain had not quite grasped the notion of death, and Jug planned to force this revelation upon himself, and leave the tiny safe haven with a steel heart. A strong heart was needed in order to find his friends and keep them safe, although he probably could not do much in the offensive sense.

His weapon was nothing but a rubber band, after all. Jug wondered if his friends had also been struck with similar misfortune.

Positioning his crown hat to the side as usual, Jug explored his temporary haven. Though several times smaller, and musty from misuse; it reminded him of his own home. Like the kitchen was structured almost exactly as his own was. He could navigate it with his eyes closed, for all the times he'd raided the fridge in the dark.

Jughead could almost imagine his mother bustling in the foreign kitchen. She always was the most fantastic cook.

Jug especially loved her pastries. Since he was young, Mrs. Andrews had often visited, and brought her homemade apricot jam with almonds. It would complement his mothers pastries so well, and he and Archie would always be scolded as they stole the jam slathered rolls.

The images of his own hearty kitchen, and of his mother dissipated. He was left staring misty eyed into the compact kitchen in which there had been no liveliness for almost thirty years. He was in a dead house. The houses soul had left when it's inhabitants had.

Jug swallowed back the tears that had welled behind his eyes and moved on. The rest of the house was fairly plain. There were only a few pieces of furniture, and so empty water bottles on the floor. Jug would have panicked at the sight of the bottles, but upon closer inspection, he noted that they had cobwebs on them. The bottle had been from some other teenager forced into the program, maybe last year; or maybe several years ago.

A set of stairs caught Jug's attention. Jug most definitely did not want to be caught unready downstairs with no one to hide. From what he judged, most of the houses had fire escapes from the second floor, it would definitely be safer to gain his wits upstairs so that in case he needed to make an inconspicuous escape, he could do so down the fire escape.

Yes, he would go upstairs and take a little breather. Then he would search for his friends. Gathering his strength with a sigh, the teen crept up the stairs.

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Her two hands quivered over her mouth as she suppressed a scream. Ethel (girl #13) kneeled on the floor and bit her tongue as she heard a small click. She had chosen an inconspicuous yellow house as her sanctuary. She planned to hide in the house for the duration of the game, and was now situation on the second floor.

_Why this house? Why couldn't the person go into another house?_

Each ominous thud of feet on the frail wooden stairs sent tremors up her body. She had planned to use the fire escape right beside her, but her knees seemed rooted to the floor.

There would be no running away.

With shivering hands, the lanky girl drew out her weapon. A bottle of liquidized cyanide, and some other poison; she could not pronounce the name. Not much of a weapon, but it was probably a better way to go than a knife to the gut of whatever else.

She unscrewed the bottle with the unsteady hands of a chain smoker, the instruction label of the poison running through her mind. It stated that at least a mouthful of the poison was needed to cause instant death. It was supposedly painless, as the brain was numbed before the actual breakdown of the innards took place.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs, and was now nearing the room Ethel was hiding in.

_It's now or never. Oh God, oh God. But this is better than being murdered. Oh God. Oh my God!_

The girl threw back her head, and filled her mouth with the bitter solution. A tiny bit trickled down her throat before she heard a familiar voice.

"Ethel! What are you doing?!"

It was Jughead's voice.

Oh no, what had she done? In her panic, what had she done?

"Spit it out!" his usually mellow voice sounded a bit too pitchy. "Spit it out, big E. Don't swallow it!"

But Ethel felt as if she momentarily lost control of her body. She just held the poison in her bulging cheeks. Only feeling, only knowing that she had swallowed an amount that might very well be lethal, and that it had been for nothing.

Jughead, in his panic pounded on the thin girls back. The impact caused her to spit out most of the poison onto the floor, and Jughead was quick to stick his finger down her throat; trying to induce vomiting.

Nothing but watery blood.

"Ethel! Can you hear me?" Jughead asked, cradling her head as he tried to get a bottle of water out of his duffel bag. She had to gargle. Swallowing the residue that remained in her mouth was too much of a risk.

But the girl had already fallen unconscious, her hands clammy.

She had not drunken enough to kill her immediately.

But the poison would slowly work away at her nervous system. She would steadily lose control of her movements, her speech, her ability to control her body.

She did not drink enough for instant death.

But she had drunk enough. Just enough.

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Current danger zones- 38, 12

Contestants remaining- 47

Recent deaths- David (boy #25)


End file.
